The Devil and Philip Morris

I am working on what is probably the hardest thing I've ever done, and that's saying something considering the mental health roller-coaster that has been my life. That oh so wonderful thing is smoking. I've been on and off the wagon so many times these past few months it's not even funny. I started smoking back when I was seventeen for those oh so wonderful reasons - because my friends smoked and it would piss-off my mom (the driving force behing many of my late teenage decisions).

Aside from the insidious nature of nicotine addiction, the psychological reasons for my smoking are very hard to shake. One, I am a nervous smoker. Whenever I am feeling anxious, its the first thing I want. Secondly, and this is one of the hardest to find a way around, it's five minutes at a time when I can't be a mom. I've been working on finding substitutes for both of these but it's been very hard work. The withdrawal symptoms add a wonderful dimension to all of this. Cravings I can cope with, the short-temperedness (I'm not even sure that's a word) and what nicotine detoxification does to my mental state are very, very nasty. It gets to the point that I want to smoke just so I can feel better which of course sends me back to square one.

I haven't given nicotine replacement a good go yet, prefering in my mind to go cold turkey and get it all over with, but the time for reconsideration is now. Michael and I are going to walk down to our local wholesale club and pick up some gum or the patch tomorrow. Again, wish me luck because I sure as hell can use it.